


A Cottage in the Woods

by orphan_account



Category: Hololive
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29486508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Detective Amelia Watson takes a reckless gamble against a dangerous criminal. In what could possibly be her final hours, Amelia must make peace with herself for all the hurt that she's caused.Loosely based on Amelia Watson's AI Dungeon playthrough.
Kudos: 11





	A Cottage in the Woods

Earthy odours wafted through the air as the afternoon skies somewhere far outside Chicago slowly darkened. The tones of scarlet and orange that hung from the trees and littered the ground were slowly fading into shades of rust and brown. Detective Amelia Watson opened the door of her unmarked Ford Taurus and stepped out onto the muddy unpaved road.

Cell phone coverage was spotty at best this far outside Chicago, so she finally decided to give up on tapping at her laptop's CAD screen. From what she could remember from the CAD, the suspect she was investigating had been previously arrested for Class 1, Class 2, Class 3, _and_ Class 4 felonies. Kidnapping, assault, trafficking in persons...just the tip of the iceberg. The suspect was free on his own recognizance, of course. On his CAD record, there were flags for violence against police and gang affiliation. Armed and dangerous was highlighted at the top right beside his mugshot. It was hard to forget the spider tattoo which covered his entire face, distorted in the mugshot by the stretch of his wide toothy grin. When Amelia had tried to tap through to the remarks on the violence against police flag, the record disappeared from her screen entirely, replaced with a "no data connection" message. Figuring that the weather wouldn't be getting any better, and the sky wouldn't be getting any brighter, Amelia had decided it was time to start her search.

Before she set off, Amelia pulled her radio from her bulletproof vest and turned a knob until she thought she was on the mutual-aid channel for the state police. She tapped some coordinates into the Maps application on her phone and adjusted her beige cape-coat over her shoulders. She hopped the fence that ran along the side of the road.

She was stepping through a wet meadow towards a treeline. A friend of hers whose tendrils reached far and deep had told her that the suspect would be in Wrigley Forest. She even had exact coordinates. It was handy having a friend who always seemed to have whispers from "ancient ones." Amelia assumed the coordinates must have somehow come from one of the suspect's cell phones. It wasn't impossible for Amelia to get a geolocation warrant with the evidence she had, but it was just quicker and more discreet to ask Ina. It was also an excuse to pay the charming, soft-spoken girl a visit, though she didn't get the chance on this occasion because of the complexity of the case.

 _Yeah, that's the right excuse_ , she thought.

The target location, from satellite imagery, seemed to be a cottage or cabin in the middle of a clearing. It was large and out of place for the area. The cottage was a long way away from the nearest road, and concealed from outside view, at least from the ground, by the forest. It was precisely the sort of place one might imagine going to if trying to evade the authorities. In the monotony of the long walk, Amelia found her thoughts wandering.

* * *

It was only a few months ago that she was at Ina's beach house on the shores of Lake Michigan. It was a clear day. The green-blue waves were gently lapping at the sand outside. Inside the kitchen, Amelia was running her fingers along one of many large bookshelves throughout the house. There was one for every room, and every one of them was lined with large tomes.

Amelia picked a book off the shelf. She rifled through the book until she thought she was somewhere near the middle and read aloud.

"The security of many cryptographic schemes relies on the computational intractability of finding solutions to the discrete logarithm problem...in what are called cyclic groups."

Strange arrangements of symbols resembling math equations were printed below the passage.

"We generate p using the probabilistic prime-finding algorithms."

Amelia placed the book back on the shelf. "Sounds like something out of the Necronomicon to me," she said as she turned to face where she thought Ina was. Ina was leaning over the kitchen counter, nose buried in another book. Amelia walked over to her.

There was something disarming about Ina that Amelia always tried to suppress.

Maybe it was the way she spoke. She always spoke so gently, so soothingly.

Amelia put her elbow on the counter and rested her head on top of her arm.

Her eyes flickered down to Ina's face.

Her face seemed to glow warm from the sunlight passing through the kitchen windows.

Amelia scanned her face, down her chin, down her slim neck which was draped in her long, orange-tipped hair glowed in the sunlight; that flowed down her back, down her slender, delicate body.

Ina let out a soft "hmm..."

She looked up.

Her dark eyes held a hypnotizing gaze. She flashed a snaggle-toothed smile.

Amelia couldn't help herself. She placed a hand on the back of Ina's head and leaned forward over the counter.

Down the hall, the front door slammed open.

"Hey, stinky! I'm back from the store!"

* * *

The sound of a shotgun being pumped broke Amelia away from her thoughts. Her hand shot down to her holster.

"Halt!" shouted a gravelly voice from behind her. "I don't think so, missy! Put 'em up, slowly!"

Amelia raised her arms slowly.

"Identify yourself, trespasser."

"Detective Amelia Watson, Chicago PD."

"Bullshit! There ain't no Chicago PD out here. You trying to rob me?"

"My badge number is 32419. If you let me turn around, you'll be able to see my vest and badge."

A man wearing camouflage with a stocky build and scraggly red beard circled in front of Amelia, a pump-action shotgun trained at her chest. His finger was on the trigger.

"What are you, some kind of nutjob? Little lady dressing like a cop?"

"I'm a police officer. Pointing a firearm at a police officer is a Class 4 felony."

"Under what law?"

"Illinois Criminal Code section 12-2(b)."

Amelia could see hesitation on the camouflage man's face.

The sound of thunder rumbled quietly in the distance.

"Lower your shotgun and I'll show you my ID."

The man seemed to consider it for a moment before lowering his shotgun slightly. "Slowly. No funny business or I kill you. Understand?"

Amelia reached into a pocket on her vest under her name-tag and pulled out an ID card with her name and photo on it. The man leaned in to read it.

"CPD, detective bureau," Amelia announced.

The man lowered his shotgun and let it dangle by his side. "Okay, fine. So you're a pig. I saw you snooping around here yesterday too. You got a warrant?"

"I'm investigating a very dangerous person. I grounds to believe he may be in the area and the community may be at risk. Have you seen anyone suspicious running through this forest?"

"No, besides you of course, today and yesterday. Hey, you haven't answered my question."

"I wasn't here yesterday. Who did you see yesterday?"

"I saw you digging around my shed yesterday. Young, pretty, blonde. That's you. This is private property, missy." The man gestured with the shotgun, finger still on the trigger. "I didn't consent to any searches."

BOOM!

A thunderous roar and blinding flash startled both of them. Amelia staggered backwards and looked down. She wasn't shot. The camouflage man stumbled backwards in the opposite direction. He fumbled with his shotgun trying to keep himself from dropping it. "Shit, what the hell was that?!"

Amelia could feel prickles of rain starting to fall from the sky. Then she saw the figure behind the camouflage man.

"Fuck! Get down!"


End file.
